Damage Control
by Mitsuko Soma
Summary: Some burned fuses at a drugs bust. Sally centric.


**Damage Control**

Sally closed her mouth and eyelids. Everything was cold, not just the weather, she could feel the cold in her mouth, it made her teeth hurt. She quickly made a note of seeing a dentist on her day off, then forced herself to reopen her eyes and tried to keep from crying. It didn't work, her eyes were filling with tears and she was quite certain her nose was growing pinkish. Sally pulled her collar up. She was definitely leaving the crime scene with a cold.

It didn't stop her from doing her job though. She surveyed the scenery. There were some bushes at the other end of the lawn, but Anderson's team had basically rooted them out, and found nothing, so that was one hiding spot less. Everything else seemed in order and not sufficient enough to hide two kilos of cocaine, so the only reasonable option left was the house. Problem was they had been searching through the house since 7 p.m. and still no sign of the drugs. Sally looked around again. Empty lawn, except for several crates, the bushes and a tree, all of which thoroughly searched. She looked up and down the street. Markis knew they were onto him, so he could have hid the drugs somewhere else, not in the house, but still close enough for convenience. Sally's eyes caught sight of a garbage container. "Stupid. Once we're done searching the house, we'll move on to the neighboring houses as well. The container would not be overlooked. " Then an idea crossed her mind. But it was 1 a.m., the truck would be here in less than four hours and they would be calling it a night after they're done with the house. And Sally was certain there was nothing in the house. Anderson had been stuck in that bathroom with the sniffer dog, for the past hour and a half, he was positive that Markis flushed the drugs down the toilet. They had also checked Markis' garbage and found nothing. Surely for a dealer who's escaped prosecution as long as he had, he'd figured out a way, a system of some sort, which would keep him out of blame and dispose of any possible evidence. So, he'd use someone else's container. He'd keep track of the garbage toll's schedule and move the drugs around, but never keeping anything incriminating in his home. That's why the dog had seemed so excited when it first got here, barking all the time while passing the neighboring houses, and then suddenly got quiet when it reached Markis' lot.

Sally made quick steps towards the nearest container but stopped before reaching it. A cab had just pulled in front of the house. "Him."

It wasn't a guess; there was no one else that it could be. And here he was quickly leaving the car with John Watson on his tail. Sherlock made for the door, with his usual exhilaration and confidence, and then stopped midway. He started turning in different directions, doing that circus act he called his ''work'', then walked backwards ( and at this point Sally rolled her eyes and let an amused expression grace her face) to where the cab had been parked only a minute ago, and looked around in the same manner, she's used only recently. She knew that he'd got it, then and there. He saw her standing in the middle of the street looking at him, and she knew that he knew that she knew. So he walked up to her, perkier than usual.

"Congratulations sergeant, maybe there's still hope for the police." He said it with more amusement than courtesy allowed, but it was, nevertheless, his approval. No doubt it must have hurt his ego at least a bit to see that people weren't as vacant as he generally believed them to be. But the glow in his eyes told her there was also some pride to it, as if his constant tantrums and evidence theft had finally paid off. She didn't like that look, it belittled her abilities as a policewoman.

"Then I guess, we won't be needing your services, now-"

"On the contrary, Sally, you will be done with this a lot faster and maybe avoid a nasty cold, don't you think so too, doctor, if I were to retrieve the goods for you."

Watson was leaning in, looking at her face. She tried looking away; this sort of attention was humiliating.

"How?" she sounded exasperated.

Sherlock smiled courtly then turned around and walked back to the house with a pace that only someone of his build could follow. Sally and John rushed after him. She wanted to reach Anderson before Sherlock but knew that it was a lost battle. They found the former yelling at the latter with a confused, if slightly frightened, German-shepherd situated between the two.

"That's nonsense." Anderson's eyes dilated a little.

"Indeed, so if you don't mind I will put Tobby's services to a better use." Adding an almost inaudible "Come on, boy."

The dog followed Sherlock despite Anderson's protests. Sally also followed, obviously tonight's show was going to be a street performance.

"We'll still have to search through all of them. If I'm right then he regularly changed the location. The dog barked all the way here, the drugs must have been in every container on the block."

"Ahhh, Sally, but why do you insist that a task as simple as this would need more than a few minutes to be resolved. You see, unlike most of the present investigators, Tobby does not need guidance to do his job properly."

Sally rolled her eyes. Sherlock stopped in the middle of the street and released the dog from its leash, not that he'd been using it so far. Tobby immediately began sniffing the area around one of the containers, he soon moved to the next one.

"The dog only barks, when it's located its target." Sherlock's statement was soon proven right as Tobby began to assault vocally one of the bins. The three of them made their way to it.

"Doctor…"

Sherlock looked expectantly at John, who let out a sigh and began rummaging through the garbage. In a moment he produced a package which, to his utter horror, made Tobby go berserk.

"Down boy…" Sherlock made a movement over the head of the dog, not even touching it and it stopped, just like that.

"How did—"Recently, John Watson had gained the habit of stopping mid sentence or not asking at all.

Sally took the package from his hands and thanked Sherlock, turning her back on the duo and again making her way to the house.

"By the way Sally, I see you've made some improvements to the dating scene. I'm positive that DI Dimmock is by far your best choice, having in mind his predecessor—"

Sally stopped, exhaled, and retraced her steps.

"Listen,"

She stood in front of him at a distance which most people would have considered inappropriate for conversation, but perfect for intimidation. He smiled, pleased with being right probably, but the look made Sally think that he is mocking her.

"I don't care how good you are at your _work_, but I would rather have you keep all your observations concerning my personal life, to yourself. It's _personal_." Her speech was more articulated than usual. Sherlock was no longer smiling.

"We put up with you, because you're useful." She felt strangely liberated saying this.

"And you come here, insult everyone in sight, and make some— "She waved her hands showing the impossibility of Sherlock's deductions.

"-you do what you do, then run off with incriminating evidence, which you never bother to restore. Well, I've got news for you, that's _illegal._ Officer offence and evidence theft - the sentence isn't that bad, but with your amazing ability to tell people what they least want to hear, you would not last a day in prison."

Sherlock's brows knitted. He was confused.

"I've got work to do too, you know. You may solve cases, but so do we. The difference is, that people expect the police to give rational explanation supported with concrete evidence to why exactly subject A has killed subject B. And I can't give them that if you keep stealing and not returning said evidence. My work's hard enough as it is, it may not be to you, but that's you – unless you've not noticed, which I doubt is the case – you're on your own Sherlock, most people don't think like you do. We need to go the long way around. And it's even harder when you go off doing things your way _and_ making us look like idiots in front of the media. You may find this amusing, but you're not exactly making friends here. "

Sherlock stared. Sally turned around and just then realized that she might have said some of this a little bit too loud. Lestrade was standing at a safe distance a few feet from her. She walked up to him and handed him the package.

"What was that all about?"

"Damage control."


End file.
